Nebula
by UnluckyAmulet
Summary: Sequel to Constellation Comparisons. People like her do not fade away in the darkness. They simply shine brighter. And for that, he is thankful. -Draco x Luna-


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! The amazing J.K Rowling does, people!

This is a loose sequel to my previous Draco/Luna fic, 'Constellation Comparisons'. You can read this fic on its own, though, it probably won't be all that confusing. (Hopefully, anyway!) Somewhat angsty, I suppose, but nothing too heavy.

Enjoy!

* * *

Draco Malfoy remembered the day they brought her to the Manor very well.

Flanked by two Death Eaters, she looked vaguely around the Manor as she was brought in, as though this was all just a mildly interesting field trip. There had been a whispered argument about what to do with the girl- the Dark Lord had only ordered her capture, but he didn't say they could do as they pleased after that. So eventually, Narcissa had suggested she be put with the other prisoner, and with no better suggestions, the Death Eaters did exactly as instructed.

Luna had put up no form of resistance whatsoever- indeed; she seemed completely calm despite the precarious situation she was in and had done exactly as she was told. It bothered Draco that she seemed unaware of the danger around her, because he knew any visiting Death Eater would probably be all too happy to remind her of it.

There was a saying that things from the past often had a way of catching up with you unexpectedly. This was most certainly true, because Draco Malfoy never would have imagined that Luna "Loony" Lovegood would ever be of interest to the Dark Lord. And yet, here she was, locked up in the cellar of his house.

Apparently, they had kidnapped her on the way home from Hogwarts. Something to do with silencing her crackpot father from printing support for Harry Potter. Despite being subjected to it himself, Draco still could not get used to Voldemort's way of using children to punish parents. He supposed that it must have worked, because the Death Eaters left her alone.

Draco found himself strangely relieved- the thought of hearing Luna's screams, the idea of her writhing with pain made him feel sick with fear. He wasn't sure why, exactly. Perhaps it was just because she reminded him of earlier days, back when he was a little brat who could go running to Daddy for everything.

Maybe he was frightened for her.

* * *

Because Draco wanted to be out of the way of the other Death Eater's as much as possible, he had elected himself to bring food down to Mr. Ollivander (who he had been doing his best to pretend didn't exist) and Luna. It was strange, but it made him feel that as long as he was doing _something_ to keep them alive, then he was less guilty. Guilty of what, he couldn't say.

To Luna's credit, she seemed to have a calming effect on Ollivander. Before, the wandmaker had done himself no favours by wailing and banging around. This had only succeeded in mildly annoying the Dark Lord, and Ollivander was punished harshly for it. Draco had often wondered why Ollivander insisted on damaging himself further, but had always shoved the uncomfortable notion that the old man may be going insane to the back of his mind. Now that he had company, he had quietened down considerably.

"You're Draco Malfoy," Luna stated calmly, watching Draco with her protuberant blue eyes. Draco found himself oddly uncomfortable in her gaze- he felt like she could see straight into him and he didn't like it.

"I know who I am." snapped Draco, arranging the items on the tray pointlessly so he wouldn't have to look directly at her.

But even as he said the words, he wondered if they were actually true. He had changed a lot since that fateful night at Hogwarts and somehow, hearing Luna say his name, it seemed to bring this into even sharper focus. He was not the old Draco Malfoy that she had known. He wondered if this was a good thing.

"Yes, I suppose so," Luna agreed, as though Draco had just made a good point in a debate. "This is your house, isn't it? I've never been in a mansion before."

"How fascinating," replied Draco, but he didn't have the heart to properly jeer at her.

Really, it was probably one of the most optimistic things for her to say. He had expected her to question him about what was going to happen, but now he realised she was likely thinking more about Ollivander's safety over her own. He couldn't decide if that was selfless or just stupid. Lowering the tray, he slid it through a small, letterbox-shaped gap in the cell to feed the prisoners. Luna accepted the tray, never taking her eyes off Draco's face.

She set the tray down next to Ollivander with an oddly careful motion, the teacups clinking gently together. She looked at Ollivander, but the old man remained with his eyes closed, leaning against the wall as though he didn't think his neck would support his head. Sighing, Luna picked up one of the teacups and set it down on the little windowsill by the old man. Draco found himself shifting about impatiently as he watched this, until he suddenly blurted out,

"Hurry up and eat something."

Perhaps it was the abruptness of this strange order that took Luna by surprise (although it was hard to differentiate that between her normal facial expression) or it could have been she knew Draco needed to see her eat. So she merely nodded slowly and thoughtfully bit into a crusty bread roll as though savouring the taste. With a grunt of satisfaction, Draco straightened up and turned to leave, trying not to look at Ollivander's greying skin in the dim light.

"Good night, Draco," Luna called to him, as Draco reached the cellar door. "I hope you get some rest. You've been looking rather pale, you know."

Draco said nothing. But he couldn't quite hide a smile as he shut the door.

* * *

Weeks went on like this; Draco brought food to Luna (and, he supposed, to Ollivander, although he had yet to see him eat) and Luna managed to convince Draco that she could be sent to Azkaban and probably still manage to retain her infuriatingly serene mental state.

He always kept his little visits brief. Draco struggled to admit this even to himself, but he realised he was scared of getting to close. Of growing too attached. He didn't know how long the Dark Lord planned on keeping his hostages, especially somewhat superficial ones like Luna Lovegood.

And yet, even though Draco had learnt long ago to seal off most of his compassion for the feelings of others, he still couldn't bring himself to think of Luna as stupid or weak or even unworthy of his attention. He felt strangely possessive of his self-appointed task of delivering food, even though he couldn't really say why he had taken it upon himself at all.

His parents, looking increasingly tired and dishevelled as time marched on, scarcely noticed what he did around the Manor anymore, as long as he was still _there_, safe. Other Death Eaters paid him no mind, which Draco secretly preferred over anything else. Strangely, the only person who seemed remotely aware or interested in what he was doing was Snape.

Snape visited the Malfoy Manor sporadically- he couldn't stay long, as he was needed at Hogwarts. But most of Snape's visits to Malfoy Manor seemed to mainly revolve around Ollivander. Draco had been a little more wary around Snape- his previous accusations that Snape wanted all the glory for himself seemed ludicrous now, but he still found it difficult to drink in the fact that by his hands, Albus Dumbledore lay dead.

The Malfoy boy suspected that Snape was there to make sure Ollivander still lived and had at least a grip remaining on his sanity. But Draco had a distinct suspicion that he was checking up on his former student as well- Luna sometimes looked a little less pale after Snape left.

It was possible Ollivander allowed the girl a little of whatever Snape was giving, but Draco doubted Luna would accept a strength-giving potion meant for a very frail old man. It seemed much more likely that Snape forced her to take some, whether to keep Voldemort satisfied on the condition on his prisoners or some other strange motive of Snape's.

But what Draco found bemusing was how it irritated him after Snape left the Manor to return to Hogwarts. He had long since given up trying to fathom the mysterious ways of his old teacher, but it bothered him how much time Snape seemed to be allowed to do as he pleased- including taking over monitoring the prisoner's.

Draco couldn't be quite so dishonest with himself as to pretend not to care about Snape's private moments with Luna. He didn't particularly want to see Ollivander die, but this small flicker of pity for the wandmaker was no match for Draco's newfound and complicated attachment to Luna Lovegood. It didn't matter to him anymore why or how these feelings came about- what mattered to him was just what they would end up doing to both him and her.

It seemed that the young Malfoy had grown accustomed to seeing Luna's disconcerting gaze and tangled waterfall of dirty blonde hair. More then that, it seemed almost as though he had slowly began to depend on it, as something that remained faithfully, the same, despite the horrible shift of circumstances.

"You still look a bit peaky, Draco," Luna calmly informed him, twisting a strand of hair around her finger, a dreamy expression on her face, "You look like a Vagadi's got to you."

Draco snorted. He had grown used to hearing Luna saying silly, extraordinary things and usually did not bother to hide his scepticism, although he occasionally found himself noticing 'signs' of bizarre creatures Luna claimed to exist. Or perhaps he subconsciously wanted to believe in them too. Not that he'd admit it.

"Or it could be that the Dark Lord is letting his psychotic followers use my parent's house as some kind of country inn," retorted Draco quietly, hardly bothering to conceal his bitterness.

He realised a while ago there was no needed to hide anything from prisoners- who in their right mind would listen to them? Who visited them besides himself and Snape? Even Wormtail avoided going down to the cellar any more, although Wormtail was being used more as a very fat house-elf then an actual Death Eater, so if Draco taking over visiting the cellar meant he had one less job to do, it was all fine by him. Draco doubted if Wormtail possessed enough intuition to question it.

"Yes, that is rather horrible," conceded Luna, tilting her head to one side as she ruminated this. "I wouldn't like it, either. But I think that you give up on hope too easily, sometimes."

Out of habit, Draco bristled angrily at this observation and rounded upon the prisoner. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white, but his scarcely noticed.

"Too easily?" he repeated, feeling a steely note of anger in his voice that he had hardly been able to articulate over the past few months, "Not everyone can live in their own little world of dreams, _Loony_ Lovegood! What the hell do you know about any of this? Some of us have to face _reality_, and look at what it's done to your little cellmate over there!"

To articulate his point further, Draco jabbed an angry finger at Ollivander, who lay curled up in the corner, before continuing on, the words pouring like liquid metal from his mouth, bitter and fierce.

"It might seem all right for you, shoved in the dark with just an old man to listen to you talk about your imaginary creatures, but what am I doing? I'm watching my parents being threatened and treated like filth and watching _him_ kill people, with his snake, and there are traitors everywhere and I don't know what I'm doing anymore and _I don't want this_, but there's nothing I can do, and-"

Draco broke off when he felt a slight pressure on his wrist. Startled, his throat feeling oddly constricted, he looked down to see that Luna had grabbed his wrist and shook it very slightly. She stared straight at him, and her expression was filled with such conviction he couldn't break away.

"It'll all be all right." Luna said softly, and at that moment, there seemed to be a strange infinite wisdom in her eyes. It passed, but Draco saw it all the same. "It all seems hopeless, it really does, but that's why you have to stay strong. I've said it to Mr. Ollivander, you know…there is always some light, even in the darkness. Always."

Wearing her mysterious smile, Luna slowly relinquished her grip on Draco's wrist. For a moment, he couldn't think of a thing to say at all. Her words, while they seemed to be exactly the vague, impossible thing Luna Lovegood might say, still seemed to reverberate through Draco's mind, as though Luna had placed them right inside his head.

"Always?" muttered Draco, as though testing the word for the very first time.

"Yes," answered Luna serenely. Draco looked at her, blinking slowly as though his lashes were made of lead.

"You're really quite stupid," He told her, almost conversationally, his voice bitingly callous.

And then, without really meaning to, he felt himself moving forwards and grabbed the collar of her robes. Luna made no noise of alarm or even confusion, only looked mildly surprised. Draco saw no more of her facial expression after that, because he leant down slightly and pressed his mouth to hers.

He didn't care that what he was doing was wrong or for his own selfish desires, he just acted. He kissed hungrily, and to his surprise, Luna responded in kind. She didn't seem to find it surreal at all that Draco Malfoy was kissing her, in a cellar after ranting at her only a few minutes before when she was a prisoner. Nor that she was reciprocating without really having thought about whether she felt like this for Draco in the first place.

All that seemed to matter to the two of them at that moment was that it was indeed happening and that it gave them both a strange sensation. It was strangely energising, liberating, even. But it was more then that- it was like a craving being satisfied. A thirst for contact, companionship, was being sated. At least for now.

When they finally broke apart properly, Draco reached up and touched his mouth with the back of his hand. He was breathing heavily and there was a strange shine in his eyes- he looked almost angry with himself. Luna watched him with an infuriatingly calm expression, silence stretching between the two of them. But Luna suddenly raised her head and said, sounding ridiculously satisfied;

"You see? You haven't given up hope after all."

* * *

The notion of avoiding Luna after the incident did not occur to Draco, not once. Even though he was embarrassed and strangely angry with himself by what he had done, Luna seemed perfectly content to just allow things to continue on like they had before. And Draco, who knew that he would miss the pattern if it stopped, deciding to cast aside his pride and return to the cellars.

He often wondered if he ought to bring it up, or if Luna would eventually ask for some sort of explanation, but he was beginning to realise that explanations were something she deemed irrelevant.

The odd thing was, ever since the unexpected kiss; something else had shifted within Draco. He knew now, with a sort of final certainty, that things were going to change very soon. This didn't even fall specifically to Luna, he just knew that something was going to happen. Draco did not know if this was intuition or something he had remembered, but he felt the knowledge as an extra weight upon him. He did not even feel any form of dread or anticipation in regards to this intuition, he just felt a sort of disappointed acceptance that it would happen.

And, sure enough, it did.

The past had caught up to Draco once again, and had also once again come in the form of former students of Hogwarts. And Draco was a little surprised to find when he looked at the face of his old nemesis and his friends; he felt no hatred or anger. Just regret and an even more pronounced detachment from his former self.

"It might be,"

That was all Draco could offer his old rival. But he felt like it was the best that he could do and that, somehow, they knew why. He was powerless in the ensuing chaos that followed, although he recalled his rant at Luna as he saw his aunt's crazed expression. And he felt a strange, bitter sensation crawl up the back of his throat when Fenrir Greyback lead the others down to the cellar. He knew that at least for now, this was goodbye for Luna Lovegood and Ollivander.

Draco was not sure how he knew this and, to be honest, he didn't really care to ponder it. When the Dark Lord heard of the prisoner's escape, all Draco could really register was a strange numbness, coming from inside of him. Only when the Dark Lord performed the Cruciatus Curse on everyone who had failed to prevent the escape did he feel anything at all.

And in a way, he was sort of grateful for the pain.

* * *

Draco sees her again in the one place he doesn't want her to be. The place where he first met her.

She casts spells with seemingly no effort. Luna Lovegood never really had a particular reputation for great spellwork, but watching her then, it seems amazing that nobody ever commented on her brilliance. Perhaps it's because people so often confused it for madness. Draco may be able to appreciate it, but the fact she's _here_ makes the magic of it short-lived. There seem to be so many people, it's amazing he can even spot her in the crowd. But after the many weeks, he can spot her waist-length hair anywhere.

"What are you doing?"

The words came out harsh, but Luna, when she turned to face him, was smiling as though he was an old friend she hadn't seen in years.

"Oh, Draco! I didn't think you'd be here- your father is a Death Eater, after all, so it's very nice to see you're not fighting."

"How do you know I'm not?" replied Draco viciously, raising his wand, the light at the tip of it lighting the shadows beneath his eyes and his hollow cheekbones.

Luna didn't reply to this, not properly, she simply shrugged. Draco was seized with a sudden urge to slap her, just to see if she could actually feel anything other then her detached optimism. Perhaps he wanted to get a reaction from her. Strangely, the urge passed.

"You shouldn't be here," Draco told her jerkily instead, lowering his wand slowly, "He's here. Don't you _know_? He's coming to kill Potter. And I doubt he'll care who gets in his way. You have to leave."

Luna twirled her wand between her fingers, watching Malfoy with a strange new expression. It took him a moment to realise that it was a mix of sadness and sympathy, and he wondered why seeing it didn't anger him like it usually would.

"I'm sorry about your friend." she said, "Hermione Granger told me what happened in the Room of Requirement."

Draco didn't know what to say to that. It seemed that Luna Lovegood possessed the ability to say exactly the best thing to render him speechless without even trying. Without really meaning to.

"You're ridiculous," Draco muttered, his throat feeling oddly constricted, "He was still the enemy, a Death Eater. And I'm your enemy too."

Even as he said the last part, the words sounded hollow to him.

"But that isn't true," replied Luna, almost cheerfully, the battle around them almost forgotten, "Because you kept me alive. I don't know how Mr. Ollivander and I would have managed without you bringing us food and visiting."

Draco opened his mouth to quickly deny his visits being anything more then in his own self-interest, but the words wouldn't come. He wondered how she could possibly know what he was thinking, when half the time it seemed like her own thoughts were from another world. What phased him much more then that, however, was how he couldn't seem to deny what she saw. Even though he had never been really one for the truth.

And then, quite suddenly, Draco felt himself slamming into the floor, the breath being knocked right from his body. Wheezing on the stone, icy cold floor of Hogwarts like a fish out of water, he tried to puzzle out why he suddenly felt so...empty.

The only thing he could properly register was how cold it seemed. As though the sun had left the world and was never going to come back, leaving everyone else under the black and cold stars. He didn't notice the Dementors above him, because he couldn't see them, blinded by the pain of a stray curse that had hit him. The memories began to swim to the surface of his mind, dancing before his unseeing eyes. The light leaving Albus Dumbledore's eyes...blood pouring from wounds on his chest...Charity Burbage landing on the table, dead.

Draco Malfoy was falling.

_Falling..._

And then the voice seemed to come floating out of the darkness.

"Expecto Patronum!" Luna called, raising her wand like a sceptre, the light from her spell making her eyes appear to shimmer for a moment.

Her hair seemed to flow behind her as silver light flew from her wand, twisting and arcing as it formed the shape of a hare, the animal looking ludicrously out of place against the darkness. But it leapt, and its silvery form seemed to glow brighter and brighter as it launched itself toward the Dementors, driving the ghostly spectres back, driving away the cold.

Light, Draco mused, seemed to glow all the more brightly in the darkness.

He couldn't really remember actually saying the words to her as he fell to the floor, but Luna was kneeling over him, tendrils of her blonde hair tickling his face. _Don't go away, don't go, don't go-_

"I'm not going anywhere, Draco," Luna told him firmly, her blue eyes fixed on his grey ones, a certainty in them he didn't know she possessed, "And neither are you."

And Draco, determined to hold on, not ready to fall, followed that light.

When he did, Luna was right there, waiting for him.

* * *

Phew! I've been working on this oneshot for quite a bit now, so I'm quite pleased with the end result. (I can see another possible sequel to this, actually.)

Reviews would be lovely!


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